


Honesty is such a lonely word

by ASweatyToothedMadman



Category: Reservoir Dogs (1992)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Pining, mr white internal monologue, mr white pov
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-03
Updated: 2020-08-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:22:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25698775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ASweatyToothedMadman/pseuds/ASweatyToothedMadman
Summary: Larry had never met anyone like Orange. He was determined, sure of himself, but with a softness behind the eye. He couldn't help but get attached. What was the problem with attachment? It was just a small job.In which Larry Dimmick falls in love with a man and decides he would end it all for him.
Relationships: Mr. Orange/Mr. White (Reservoir Dogs)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 19





	Honesty is such a lonely word

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, this is my first res dogs fic so feedback is appreciated hope this turned out well  
> dedicated to Mack aka mrs hoobies who told me to write this

The sun beat down heavily on the back of his neck. It had been a hot couple of days and this one wasn't any different. You get into these habits when you get older; when you get too comfortable. Wake up in the morning and make yourself a nice cup of coffee. Put a bit of sugar in it, but don’t add too much. Keep it plain enough to remember you're not in this for fun. Where it has this edge to it that bites at your tongue. Waking up almost feels like a chore at times. You dream of what you miss, what you wish for, things that could never happen. You wake up to a dark room, sweaty blankets tossed to the side. 

Larry always liked to watch the news when he woke up. He really didn't care much about the things going on. Who died, who lived. It didn't matter. It was just a habit that he had kept to remind him of what he had. A ritual of sorts, a schedule. It was hot or it was cold. Maybe it would rain. He was much more used to the cold and the rain though. This move, though temporary, had thrust him into a climate he wasn't familiar with. Here it was all short sleeves and shorter tempers. How could anyone take this kind of heat constantly? This was the job though and he wasn't going to complain over making off with some extra cash. It wasn't like he had anywhere better to be. This is how Larry Dimmick found himself in a situation he could not get himself out of. The situation being an undercover cop he had somehow fallen in love with. 

Larry had always gone by the principle of not letting on more than you can back up. He wasn't always cold to the touch, but it sure did help. Life was hard and if you didn't stand your ground, you'd be pushed over in an instant. Larry was always a short guy, had some muscle to him, but short. You needed to have the attitude of a dangerous man to stay safe sometimes. Having the body to match helped too. A cold hard look does wonders. That's what kept you safe. That's what also kept you alone. They stop picking and fighting, and suddenly there is this emptiness. Too many feelings to process so why have them in the first place. You open up that box and you are filled with a world of problems. Maybe it was the way he had grown up or it had developed over time. Larry was never really the crying type anyway. It was always easier to stay silent, let it all wash over. 

Orange wasn't like anyone he had ever met before. He was tough, sure of himself. But there was this softness just behind his eyes. Almost a sort of vulnerability. Larry saw himself in that.

They first locked eyes at the bar. Orange with his elbow on the bar, hair in his face, and eyes unreadable. Larry was sitting at the table, sweat dripping down the back of his neck as he listened to Joe talk. His son right beside him jumping in whenever he could. They were there to meet some new guy for the job, so of course, Joe wanted Larry to give him a look over. Larry was good at things like this. He was careful. At least he usually was. Then Orange had come strutting over in his leather jacket and tight undershirt. How he wasn't dying in that thing, Larry didn't know. The guy was skinny but lean. His face and nose were long, but they suit him. He had a softness to his eyes with a dangerous edge. As though he were trying his best to fit in. Trying to put on a tough guy act, letting it take over until it's all you know. Larry couldn't look away. Orange had spun his little tale out and it was good. Almost too good. He didn't care though, he couldn't stop looking at those green eyes. And those green eyes kept looking right back at him. As if daring him to make a move. To say something.

When Joe asked him what he thought, he should have said no. But he couldn't. Maybe he just wanted to give the kid a chance. Getting that first major job was a tough thing and this job was a hell of a good starter job. Maybe there was something else. Something he didn't want to admit. Did he want to help Orange or did he want to help Orange to help himself? So he gave Joe the OK and Orange was added to the job. This is where they got their names. Orange. Mr. Orange. And for himself, Mr. White. They were strangers in a way, hidden behind these names. With a pat on the back, Joe and Eddie got up and left, leaving Larry and Orange alone at the table.

Orange wasn't looking at him anymore. He almost seemed to be lost in thought as he picked at the skin of his fingers and looked around the room, occasionally stopping to take a sip of the drink he'd gotten. He looked anywhere he could except at Larry. Maybe this was a good time to say he needed to get going. Keep it casual. Larry went to say something, but now orange was looking at him. Dark eyes and long lashes with a hard stare.

"You like this place?" 

Orange asked casually, shifting in his seat a bit and pulling at the drenched undershirt that now stuck to his skin. 

"Yeah, I mean it's fine. The drinks are cheap and it's good for a meet up so I won't complain," 

Larry shrugged, looking down at his own drink and scratching the back of his neck. Orange scrunched up his face at that with a laugh, 

"It's so fuckin hot in here, man," 

Larry couldn't help but laugh along with him. He couldn't help but look at Orange. The way he grinned, the way his eyes closed as he laughed and his cheeks went pink. He shouldn't be looking at him like this. He for sure shouldn't be looking at the new guy on the job like this. It was so easy though. And Orange was looking back at him like he enjoyed the attention.

"Well, I'm sure it wouldn't be so hot if you weren't wearing that huge fucking coat, kid. What do you think it is? The middle of winter?"

"Fuck off," 

Orange laughed, trying his best to sound pissed, but it wasn't working too well.

They spent the next hour or so like that until Orange leaned in close and said he needed to go call a cab. It was getting dark out now, but the bar was still pretty filled and lively. Orange had his arm draped across the back of Larry's chair and his breath came out hot by his ear as he talked. But he wasn't going to think about this. 

"You know what, how about I just give you a ride home. Free of charge,"

Orange blinked at him before scratching the back of his neck and looking at the ground, 

"Oh, no man it's fine. I took a cab here, I can take one back no problem,"

"No, really. I'm not gonna let you get in some stranger's car wasted off your ass when I have one right here that works just fine," 

Orange took a moment and then nodded alright. He seemed to be debating in his head but smiled at his decision. The two got up from their seats, Larry throwing some cash on the table for their drinks. Orange tried to argue, but he wasn’t going to get anywhere with it. Then, they were off into the night.

As they stepped out into the dimly lit lot, Larry pulled out his pack and lit up a cigarette for himself. Orange took the one he was offered and the two smoked in silence as they got into Larry's car. He needed something to cloud his thoughts. Better yet, something to stop him from thinking altogether. He needed to be thinking though. He didn't know this guy, hell they had just met a few hours ago. Now his laugh played in his mind on repeat. He needed another drink. Starting the car, he turned on the radio and Orange gave out his address.

Orange lived a ways away from the bar, but Larry didn't mind. They sat without a word as the radio played softly. Orange was leaning over with his arm on the door, looking out the window as he smoked. Occasionally he would let his hand drift out the window into the open air and let the breeze touch his skin. Not that Larry was looking or anything. They arrived soon after and Orange turned to look at Larry. 

"Thanks a lot for the ride, man. I guess I'll see you tomorrow?" 

he seemed nervous, but Larry wasn't going to ask. Nervous came with this life. 

“I guess we’ll be working together, so it was nice to get to know you a bit,”

"Sure thing, kiddo," was all he said before orange nodded and got out of the car. He crossed the street in long strides and soon disappeared out of view. Larry let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding. This kid, this Orange, was going to be the death of him. He needed to get his priorities straight before they really got this job going.

The ride back to his motel wasn't that long. Not that he was counting the miles between his home and Orange's. If he was, there wasn't anything wrong with that. There was a good chance he and Orange would be working closely with each other so that address should be burned into his head. He really wished he knew this kid's name. Thinking of him as Orange felt bizarre. Larry knew they needed these codenames for safety and anonymity, but that didn't mean he had to like it. He wanted to know this guy's real name. He wanted to hear Orange call him Larry. He hated Mr. White. In a way, White was everything he hated about himself. What everyone thought of him as. His mask. White was tough, uncaring. White would kill without feeling anything because it was him or the guy in the way. Larry was just some guy too caught up in it to stop. You start this way of life and you're not gonna get out without a lot of pain. What did he need anyway? He had money, food, and a place to live. What more did he need? Yes, maybe he caught himself thinking of a closeness he used to have. Maybe he wished he could feel that close to someone again, but it's not like he'd go around saying that. He was getting old anyway. Older, slower, more tired, and in a way sadder. Maybe in his youth, he got that rush from it, that feeling like he could do anything. That feeling changed as the years went on. Disappointments and losses. Trust where trust shouldn't have been given. He couldn't do anything about that though. He would have loved to go back and give young Larry a tip, but that's not how this works. 

He pulled into the parking lot right outside his room. The place wasn't the best in the world, but it worked for him. It had a bed, a small kitchen, and a working tv. What more could he need? Larry came in with a yawn, mentally checking everything as he went in case someone had decided to break in while he was gone. Everything seemed to be as he left it, so he willed himself to relax. It didn't work. It never seemed to work. What he needed now was a drink, but that was a habit he would not let himself start. Instead, he stripped down to his undershirt and boxers and climbed into bed. He felt exhausted, but his mind was alive and buzzing. He needed to rest up. He just could not stop thinking of Orange.


End file.
